Misfire
by SNSIE
Summary: Dean and Sam head to Mississippi to investigate a string of deadly fires. The brothers follow a confusing trail of death, clues and mishaps that are wreaking bizarre havoc on this small southern town. But will they survive the final confrontation?


_**Misfire**_

_By AyJay_

_**Argos, Mississippi**_

The crickets chirruped loudly in the stifling heat of the Mississippi Delta; the warm breeze that sang across the river only heightened the fevered temperature. The silken rays from the crescent moon filtered through the cottonwood trees, their rustling leaves creating dancing shadows over the dilapidated house. The lights shone brightly inside the home, illuminating the flower boxes that lined them: their blooms in stark contrast to the cracked yellow paint that was slowly peeling from the house and littering the sunburnt grass underneath.

Nature held sway here as it went about its business. The only sounds, those of the creatures that claimed the night as their own; each revelling in their tiny world as they rummaged for food or searched for a mate. But their peaceful paradise was shattered as the backdoor of the house was flung open; the screen slamming back against the clapboard with a _bang_. All was now quiet as fear and apprehension took hold of the night dwellers; their luminous eyes affixed to the unusually thin man that strode from the house…

The man slammed through the door; sighing loudly and ignoring the nagging yell that followed him from his home. He stopped himself from flipping her _'the bird'_; if she saw that, there would be _no_ shutting her up. He slouched across the cracked concrete patio; the crickets now resuming their chirruping after the loud interruption. He muttered under his breath and ran a hand across his brow, wiping the sweat that had sprung up the minute he'd stepped into the oppressive southern heat. He raised his eyes to the moon, resisting the urge to howl as he slumped into the old, weathered recliner.

He brought his beer to his lips and gulped the amber liquid greedily. '_Bitch!" _he thought angrily. It wasn't enough that he worked two damn jobs so she could sit at home on her fat ass, stuffing her face with mud-pie and Cajun fried chicken, but _now _she wanted him to paint the goddamn _house?_ He shook his head '_In your spare time' _she'd said. Spare time? _Spare _time? He hurled his empty beer bottle into the woods that surrounded his home, cussing under his breath.

"_Ow…"_

He cocked his head and pushed himself from the chair, the leather creaking as he rose slowly. He listened intently; a small frown creasing his brow. If he wasn't mistaken…he shook his head and laughed softly to himself. He could have _sworn _he heard someone…no…_two _someone's, in the woods.

"Who's there?" he called out when he thought he heard faint whisperings float towards him. He stared into the shadows that lived within the woods. "Y'all better show yerselves! I ain't gonna tell yer twice!"

He listened carefully; not a sound. No cussing, no more whispering, no laughing of teenagers playing a prank. He sighed loudly; he must have been hearing things. He gave another snort of laughter, this one punctuated by a loud, alcoholic burp. Maybe it was the eight beers he'd drunk in the past two hours that had him hearing things. He shook his head with a lazy smile and started to lower himself into his chair...but he stopped mid-sit as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, goose-bumps rise over his bare chest and a deep fear-filled chill settle in his bones.

And it was _then _that he noticed there was _no _sound. No crickets, no rustling of nocturnal animals through the woods and no incessant buzzing of the insects that plagued this part of the delta. He stared into the woods again; the shadows seemed more…intense now, more _dense. _He straightened, taking a faltering step towards the forest as he heard a soft chuckle.

"Y'all show yerself _now _or I'll come over and give yer a whippin' yer Grandpappy'd be proud of!" he said loudly; the alcohol now giving him a bravado he wouldn't normally have. He was a coward at heart; he knew it ….and so did is wife. And it was _that _thought that drove him forward.

"Don't _make_ me get me 12-guage!" he yelled. "You …"

His eyes widened in fear as he was thrown back into his recliner; his screams of pain and terror shattering the still night air as he was eaten alive by flames. The fire licked up his skin, burning into his muscles as his screams rose; building on each other as the flames intensified. He could _smell_ the sickly sweet scent of his flesh burning; could _hear _the crackling of his hair as it _whooshed _alight; could _feel _the excruciating gelatinous bursting of his eyes as they popped from their sockets. He opened his mouth to let loose another scream and the flames shot down his throat; searing his vocal chords; _devouring _him inside and out as he began to melt into his chair.

His screams petered out…only to be replaced by those of his wife.

_**..xx...SUPERNATURAL..xx..**_

Wispy pristine clouds floated across the pink hues that now dominated the sky; the day slowly turning as the hazy orange sun began its slow dip below the horizon. A sweet rumbling filled the air; a sound that resonated through the delta and echoed back to the black beast; bringing a smile to the driver's face. There wasn't much that could do that these days but the sound of his baby roaring as it chewed up the blacktop brought a deep sense of peace to Dean. It was a peace he could never explain to his brother. He glanced over at Sam; his smile widening as he saw his brother going over newspaper reports for the last few months; a pencil tapping lightly against his teeth as he read. _This _was the Sam he'd miss; the Sam that was happy when he had his head in a book or was researching something. The Sam that wasn't always riding his ass about getting out of the damn deal.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his seat as he looked at his watch "Better find a motel, there's no way we're reaching 'Argos' before nightfall." he rubbed at his eyes "And I need food and sleep…and not necessarily in that order."

Dean grinned at his brother "You're not slacking off on the job are ya, Sammy?"

"Bite me." said Sam with a laugh "Had a little trouble sleeping last night."

Dean laughed softly "She was a screamer, Sammy." he grinned "Not _my_ fault my _'General' _knows his way around the…"

"You _named _it?" Sam interrupted. He groaned at Dean's smirk "_Way _too much information, dude." he turned back to the road and pointed "That place'll do." he said; not wanting to continue this conversation in _any _way, shape or form. Trying to block out his brother's 'activities' last night had been traumatic enough. A blow-by-blow description of it _now, _would kill him.

Dean chuckled at his brother's discomfort, his gaze following Sam's pointed finger. He read the garish flashing neon sign above the roadside motel "_Delta Blues Motel?" _he laughed "Lets ride the cliché for all it's worth." he shook his head as he pulled into the motels parking lot; this was gonna be a _long _hunt. "Grab our gear, Sammy." Dean killed the engine "I'll get the room and we'll see what nightmare we'll be stayin' in tonight."

Dean smiled again at the all-familiar creak of his baby's doors; the smile turning into a groan as the stifling heat hit him like a punch in the face. He eased the car door shut and ran a hand through damp hair as he sauntered towards the office; a little less swagger in his step as the heat beat down on him. His boots crunched on the gravel and he rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh at the poorly painted guitars and 'treble clefs' that littered the pale blue walls of the motel. He pushed the glass door open, the bell above it, tinkling; and he grinned at not only the pretty receptionist but the air-conditioned paradise inside. He turned back and grinned at his brother, giving him the 'thumbs-up' sign before entering.

Sam laughed softly at his brother's grinning face as he got out of the Impala; he stretched, leaning back against the door as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He watched the clouds slide across the sky; the burning rays of the sun tinging the landscape a deep orange; a ghostly fire that now veiled the terrain. He closed his eyes. Fire. His life was ruled by it. He sighed. It all came back to fire. Fire had ripped into his life when he was six months old and killed his mother. Fire had followed him to Stanford and killed Jess. Fire had haunted him his whole life. And here it was again.

He opened his eyes and reached back into the Impala, grabbing the file and sitting up on the hood. He removed the first newspaper clipping and read it again. By all accounts, it was an innocuous house fire that had claimed the lives of a husband and wife. The fire department chief stating the man had fallen asleep with a lit cigarette; no suspicious circumstances. That was three months ago. The _first _fire. He took the next clipping; another house fire. This one an electrical fault in the basement wiring. The old man that lived in the house, falling down the stairs and breaking a hip as he went, they guessed, to put the fire out. Poor guy slowly burned to death. No one had heard his screams for help.

"Dude! Get your ass off my baby!" yelled Dean as he strode towards the Impala "Don't disrespect her like that."

Sam laughed softly at his brother, closing the file as he slid from the car "She's not complaining."

Dean smacked Sam upside his head "She suffers in silence, dude." he held up the key "I got the room…" he grinned "And a phone number." he looked around "Where the hell are our bags?" he shook his head with a smile; falling back into the easy banter he had with his brother "One job, Sammy. That's all you had." he grabbed his bag from the back seat "I catch you with your ass on my girl again…" he threatened with a grin as he walked towards the room, wondering what decorating disaster awaited them.

But they'd both been pleasantly surprised by the unassuming décor of the room. Dean had expected an overload of 'blues' inspired crap but it was simply decorated with the basic requirements. Two beds; a table and chairs and the all important mini bar. The bathroom was _clean_ which was _always_ a plus. They'd grabbed some take-out and a six-pack from the diner across the road and were now digging into chilli-fried crayfish that tasted as good as it looked.

Dean looked up from his dinner "Alright, geek-boy. Hit me with it." he said through a mouthful of seafood.

Sam sipped his beer and pulled the file towards him "Spate of fires going back three months." he paused "Damn, this is _good." _he licked his lips as he tucked back into his meal.

Dean laughed softly "Gotta love southern cooking." he burped loudly "And I've read your little collection, Sammy." He pointed to the file "That's not what I'm talking about." he leaned back in his chair "Something's got your panties in a twist…"

"My _panties?" _he laughed "Nice, Dean." he picked up his beer again.

"And there you go, dodging again." said Dean "'Fess up, Sammy. There's more to this than a 'Drew Barrymore' wannabe goin' all 'Firestarter' on this town."

Sam sat forward in his chair "Dude, this has demon written all over it. _Big _demon." said Sam "But it's all _over_ the freakin'place. And it's not just house fires. It's exploding cars, lightning strikes and …" he flicked through the file and pulled out a newspaper clipping from two days ago "Spontaneous Human Combustion."

"Yeah, read that one." said Dean as he took the clipping from Sam and read it again. He raised his eyes to his brother "Isn't there supposed to be like an arm that's totally untouched by fire? Or a leg…usually with a shitty looking slipper attached to it?" he frowned as he sipped his beer "This dude _melted _into his freakin' chair."

Sam nodded "And it was outside. There's no recordings of SHC happening in the open. It goes against the whole science of it."

Dean stopped a guffaw "Science, uh huh." he shrugged "So the coroner fucked up." He smirked "What a surprise." He slouched in his chair; his beer dangling between his fingers as he studied his brother. He sighed inwardly, he knew that look "You know I killed that yellow-eyed freak, Sammy."

"I was _there,_ Dean." said Sam, more testily than he intended.

Dean nodded slowly and began to pick at the label on his beer "So what is it then? 'Cause you're not going into this as a standard hunt."

"Dean, eleven people have _died_ in this town already! There are freaky weather patterns hanging all over it and its _escalating._ There are _no _discernable patterns that I can find!" he sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair before sculling the rest of his beer "It's just messing with my head, is all." he lied.

Dean watched his brother closely; it was more than that, he was sure of it. It wasn't that Sam was a bad liar, but he _knew _his brother. The hunt _was _bothering him but there was something else going on in that head of his. He pushed the words of Alex Armstrong out of his mind as he studied his brother. No. Sammy was fine. But if this had _anything _to do with Sam trying to get him out of the deal, he was gonna _kick_ his brother's ass. "You don't want to tell me, that's fine Sammy. But don't start doin' shit you shouldn't." he stood and stretched; rubbing at his belly as he burped again "I'm gonna shower." He turned to the bathroom "When you pull your head outta your ass, let me know."

Sam stared at the closed bathroom door for a long time; even Dean's singing didn't bring a smile to his face. He didn't know why this hunt seemed to keep bringing his thoughts back to his mother. Dean _had _killed old yellow-eyes; that part of their life-long hunt was now over. But after what Ruby had told him, and after confirming _everyone _that had ever been close to his mother was now dead... He shook his head; he didn't know whether he was clutching at straws here but his mother had been killed by fire and now …all these deaths by fire in Argos, Mississippi. It could all be a coincidence but he didn't like coincidences. He sighed again, rubbing his hands down his face. _Shit_, it could just be him trying to make a connection where there _wasn't _one. Hoping for an answer he probably wasn't _ever_ gonna get.

He pushed his food away from him and got up; kicking his boots off as he fell onto the bed. Maybe all he needed was a good night's sleep. Maybe he'd see things more clearly in the morning and maybe, just maybe…he'd get some answers when they arrived in Argos. Answers to the never-ending questions of why fire seemed to follow him wherever he went.

xx..SNSIE...SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

_**Two days earlier…**_

Furfur sat on the musty bed in the abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of the town; an icepack held to his forehead as he waited for Haborym, his mentor, to return. The light from the flickering candle that rested on the small wooden stool near the bed, cast ghostly shadows over Furfur's gangly frame; the large, distorted shadow at his back perhaps showing his true form. He stared, transfixed, as he watched the wax run slowly down the side of the empty beer bottle that held the candle. He reached out a tentative finger to catch the viscous gum, the burning sting of it taking him back to a place he didn't like to dwell. To the place where it had all started to go wrong…

_Cursed. That's what he was. There was no other way to explain it. Ever since he'd slid from between his mother's legs, he'd been doomed. It wasn't just that that his father had dropped him; his fingers slipping on his blood-covered form as he'd tried to deliver him (and that horn never __**would **__grow properly) or that for the first day of his birth, they'd believed him a girl …but the omens that day had been __**bad.**_

_All of Hell had been tip-toeing about the place; terrified of putting a claw out of place for fear of incurring the vexation of the devils. But what had __**he**__ done? He'd come wailing into the depths; announcing his arrival with high-pitched squeals as his father tried to shush him. And then? Bang. He'd slipped from his father's fingers; hitting the stone-floor with a thud that had elicited __**more **__howls. His father had scrabbled around trying to pick up his squirming, screaming form as his mother gave birth to his dead brother. _

_He'd been surrounded by death, even in the womb. And it hadn't got any better. It seemed to follow him wherever he went. Stalking him. It was just little things at first; an accidental drowning here, a slippery set of stairs there. But always, __**he **__was in the middle of it. Looking around disbelievingly as others slowly backed away from him. _

_Then the rumours had started flying around like…well, like hellfire. The devils had been __**angry **__that day; something about some __**other **__birth topside that had every demon worried. The tension and fear in Hell that day had hung like a dense shroud over the place. It was like its own entity; you could have poked it with a trident and heard it howl. So everyone stayed in their lairs, keeping to themselves and only venturing out if __**absolutely **__necessary. There were to be __**no **__births that day but, of course, he hadn't listened. He'd stumbled into the world in a river of blood, dragging his dead brother with him and alienating the devils in the process. Cursed. Yep, that's what he was._

_His mother had tried her best with him; schooling him herself after that 'unfortunate incident' at the River Styx. The mothers of the other demon-children refusing to allow him anywhere near their spawn for fear of their offspring suffering the same fate as the others. He was a Jonah; and __**everyone **__knew it. _

_Even his father looked at him with undisclosed fear now. He'd tried to talk to him; to explain that it wasn't __**him **__that was doing this…he was just always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coincidence. Nothing more. His father had nodded slowly, a frightened smile forming on his maw as he'd tried not to anger his son. He'd sighed as he'd watched his father's almost comical flight from the lair. Ignoring the faint whisper in his ear and the shadow at his back that seemed to move all on its own; not mirroring him at all._

_So he'd grown slowly; no friends and a constant murmur that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Fearful eyes that watched his every move; mothers pulling their spawn away from him whenever they saw his approach. The not so hushed whispers that told of the one that had defied the devils by his birth …and was now paying the price. The __**Cursed **__One. Awesome._

_And things hadn't improved when his father had mysteriously tripped and fallen at the feet of Cerberus. The three-headed dog ripping his father to pieces before gulping him down in front of the new arrivals at 'The Gate'. The Guards had turned fearful eyes to him; the 'newbies' getting their first lesson… _

'_Welcome to Hell. Please mind the dog...oh, and the weird-looking demon with the freaky horn…''_

_He'd stood, dumbfounded. All he'd wanted was to visit his father at work; bring him the lunch that he'd forgotten in his haste to leave their lair. The brown paper bag containing his father's meal, now slipping slowly from his fingers as lunch took on a whole new meaning. _

_He'd fled the accusatory eyes; ignoring the three loud burps that seemed to follow his ungainly flight back to his mother. A soft chuckle echoing through his ears as the searing air of his home burned into his lungs. _

_His mother had taken it all in her stride; never once blaming him for the deaths that seemed to surround him and especially not that of his father. She'd marched him up to 'Main Office' and demanded to see his Uncle, her brother; to try and have something done with her son. The secretary had complied; she'd have agreed to __**anything **__to be away from the boy. So he'd been dragged in to see his Uncle; his mother saying that while others saw him as a curse, __**she **__believed it was a __**gift **__he held. _

"_Weren't demons __**supposed **__to bring pain and death to others?" she'd asked. _

_His Uncle had nodded slowly; his eyes never straying far from the boy before adding that it wasn't supposed to be __**their **__kind that suffered, but those topside. _

"_So school him and __**send **__him topside." she'd argued. _

_His Uncle had seen the wisdom in her words and had assigned him to the first of many mentors. _

_His first mentor had lasted a year before the demon had tripped and fallen into the pits. His second only six months before he'd accidentally decapitated himself with his own sword. Then the rumours had started again; started again in tandem with the whispers that had been silent inside him for so long. His third mentor had lasted a month before he, too, had succumbed to what was now known as __**'Furfur's Fury'**_

_It wasn't that he was __**completely**__ inept; he wasn't. He __**had **__wreaked havoc topside (most of it __**was **__a fluke, even __**he **__knew that) but he __**had **__shown potential beyond his years; all of this in spite of his limited schooling. It was just a matter of controlling the jinx within…ignoring the constant, corrupt whispers that seemed to rise when he was most vulnerable. In his dreams. The dreams that were filled with desecration and blood; dreams that seemed to have a red-filter placed over them. Dreams that excited him…showed him the power for which he hungered. The power that always seemed so out of reach. _

_So he'd __**begged **__his mother for one last chance. Once last chance to get it right. Swearing on Satan himself that he would embrace everything his new mentor taught him; that he would listen and obey without question. He'd ignored the manic, derisive laugh that had erupted through his mind and smiled as his mother had nodded and placed the medallion around his neck. The one she'd had forged from his dead father's sword. The one she said would protect him from himself as she went to see his Uncle again. _

_This time he would get it right. __**This **__time he would become the demon he was always meant to be. __**This **__time he would show all those in Hell that __**he **__was a demon to be reckoned with. _

_The curse that had followed him as he'd trailed Haborym from the depths was a soft, siren song that had floated delicately over him, recoiling from the medallion before whispering silently into his ear…_

He was snapped out of his reverie by the turning of the key in the lock; looking up as Haborym stormed into the farmhouse; his piercing obsidian eyes boring into Furfur. His mentor began to pace; his hulking frame a mass of tension that bulged under his shirt; his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to control his anger.

Haborym turned and looked at the young demon that was holding an icepack to his forehead; his large, black eyes skittering about the room as he looked everywhere _but _at him. He started to mutter under his breath, noticing how his _'protégé' _began to squirm. He could see the narrow shoulders shaking under the too big t-shirt; the eyes constantly flicking towards the door as the …._demon_ (and he used that term _very _loosely) wondered if he'd be able to make good his escape if need be.

His pacing increased and his jaw set as he looked at the _man _sitting in front of him. He'd gone from being a mentor to a glorified _babysitter! _What had he done to deserve this? He was diligent in his work. He was a dedicated arsonist and took pride in his art; rarely leaving anything but ash in his wake. And on the few occasions he _had, _it had only been due to time constraints and an over-zealous fire department. Things that were completely out of his control. But _this? _He sighed inwardly as he tried to control the rage that was rushing through him in a torrent. He looked at the boy in front of him and stopped his pacing; leaning back against the wall; crossing muscular arms across his broad chest as he studied the hellion.

Unlike the others; he had _volunteered_ to be the lad's mentor. He'd ignored the surprised looks on his comrades' faces and the incessant warnings that had come with it. He could see the potential in Furfur; see it where others couldn't. The boy was an untapped force; not fully aware and not completely in control of the power within. And he decided _he _would be the one to bring it to the fore.

He hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart; he didn't have one. And if he _had, _there would be anything _but _goodness in it. No, if he could get this boy to harness the power within; then _he _would benefit from it. _He _would be the one that controlled the _'Cursed One'. _Not that he put stock in any of that crap. All the deaths that seemed to follow the lad could be easily explained. He was a pragmatist and he saw the value in having Furfur near him. The demon in front of him was his way up the hierarchical ladder.

Haborym took a steadying breath; using every ounce of strength to calm himself before he opened his mouth "You need to learn to _duck, _boy."

"Yes, Sir." he whispered. "Is…everything…did it all work out?" he falteringly asked.

Haborym nodded; unable to stop the smile that rose to his lips "The _man _and his beloved chair are now one and his _wife _will either eat herself to death or go quietly mad after witnessing that. Either way, the job was done. Results are what count." he grinned nastily "Another dead human who suffered a painful, screaming death. What more could we ask?"

Furfur gave Haborym a tentative smile; his mentor's mood swings confused the heaven out of him. One minute he'd be waiting on tenterhooks for a beating he knew he probably deserved only to have the man grin at him and clap him on the shoulder. Other times, the man would be smiling warmly before lashing out unexpectedly. It was seriously messing with his head. He never knew _what _to expect from him and that only increased his nervousness. But as this mentor had survived nearly three months of being around him without so much as a scratch; he was starting to believe that maybe, just _maybe _everything was going to work out as he hoped.

Haborym stared at the large lump on the boys head and sighed "Tomorrow. We'll test you again tomorrow." he smiled "Let the _po-_lice deal with this _and_ their stomachs before we hit them again." he chuckled at the memory of the retching cops that had tried to keep their food down and _not _taint the crime scene. "We'll destroy this town in no time. Now get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir." Furfur answered; sliding back up the bed and pinching out the flame, shivering slightly as his shadow was extinguished.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

_**Argos, Mississippi. Present day…**_

The Impala growled down the main street of 'Argos' ; Dean and Sam watching the people of the town flitting in and out of the brightly coloured stores that lined the wide carriageway. They could _feel _the apprehension that hung over the place; could _see _it in the way some of the locals gathered in small groups, talking animatedly amongst themselves. See it in the way others hurried about their business; constantly looking over their shoulders.

Dean turned to Sam and grinned "Looks like the natives are restless."

Sam nodded slowly as his attention was caught by a gangly man moving quickly through a throng of people. The man's head was down, longish brown hair partially covering a pale face as he muttered to himself. "Yeah…" Sam replied distractedly; his eyes still on the odd-little man. He watched incredulously as the guy walked _straight _into a power pole. A group of men huddled nearby laughed their asses off and Sam stifled his own as he shook his head; _damn_, that _had _to hurt. But the guy just picked himself up quickly, scowled at the laughing men as he rubbed at his head and his ass then continued on his freaky way.

Sam shook his head again and laughed softly as he turned to his brother "The natives are a strange lot." he grabbed the town-map from the dash and studied it "Okay…take the next right and then second street on the left. That's where the first fire happened."

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Hendrix' _'All Along the Watchtower' _as he followed the directions Sam had given him. He glanced over at his brother "So what're you hoping to find here, Sammy?" he asked "I mean, this fire happened …what? Three months ago? We'll be lucky if we find anything but…" he pulled the car to the curb "That." he said as he pointed.

They both stared at the gutted remains of the house. The blackened skeleton of the home in stark contrast to the well maintained and sedate coloured houses that lined the street; the singed grass of the property seeming to mock the lush, manicured lawns that surrounded it.

Sam sighed as he got out of the car; slamming the door "It's a starting point, Dean."

Dean winced as he exited the Impala "Sam! How many _times, _dude! Don't slam the freakin' door!" he bumped _his _door shut with his ass "See?" he grinned "My ass is gifted." He ambled across the street, ignoring the rolled eyes of his brother.

They picked their way over the ashen remains of the property; Dean's EMF beeping wildly as he swept it over the debris. He kicked at pile of what looked like burned furnishings and crouched as he began to sift through the rubble. He didn't know what he was looking for, he was sure the fire department and police had scoured the place; but he knew better than anyone that they often missed things. Things that only he and Sam would understand. He looked up quickly as he heard Sam curse and chuckled softly as his brother picked himself up; brushing at the back of his jeans "You alright there twinkle-toes?"

Sam gave Dean the finger as he studied the house…there was…_had _been something more than a simple fire here. It wasn't just the squeals of Dean's EMF that told him that. He could _feel _it; deep in his bones and he stifled a shiver that ran through him.

"Here!"

Sam looked over and into the grinning face of his brother and made his slow and careful way over to him "Whatchya got?" he asked as he crouched. Dean was rubbing something metallic between his thumb and forefinger "Well?"

"Keep your panties on, Sammy." said Dean as he inspected the object; turning it between his fingers. He passed it to his brother "You think this is something the owners carried around?"

Sam looked at it and frowned "You don't just _drop _something like this, Dean."

"No shit, Sammy." Dean smirked and stood, surveying the remains of the property "Heads up. Incoming nosy-neighbour." he muttered.

Sam glanced up, pocketing the object as he smiled at the woman who made her way towards them "Morning!" he called as he and Dean wove their way through the ruins.

"Just stay there, ma'am!" said Dean as he flashed a badge at her "Still not structurally sound." He gave her his most disarming smile.

The woman faltered slightly at that smile; her anger at having people pick through the shattered lives of Jim and Lisa, now switching to confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded; putting stout hands on wide hips as she eyed the two young men who stopped in front of her; her foot automatically tapping as she waited for an answer.

Dean smiled again "Detective James Page, Arson Squad." he motioned to Sam "Sergeant Kyle Clarkson." he grinned "My lackey." he cleared his throat as the woman frowned "What can you tell us about …"

"Mr and Mrs Winston." Sam supplied; resisting the urge to smack his brother about the head as he took a notepad and pen from the back of his jeans.

"Oh…ah…sorry." she stammered "It's just the _scavengers _have been going through this place." she shook her head and clucked her tongue "The _nerve _of people these days!"

Dean shook his head in mock consternation "Some people have _no _decency at all. Snooping into other people's live and such, Miss…" started Dean, flashing her another award-winning smile.

The woman blushed "Grayson. Hilary Grayson." she put out her hand and Dean shook it "Mrs."

"So what can you tell us, Mrs Grayson?" asked Dean in his most official voice "Anything would be a help."

"Oh, yes, yes." she nodded "Jim and Lisa were _wonderful _people. Salt of the earth. Give you the shirt off their back. Ya know?" Dean and Sam nodded dutifully "It just doesn't make _any _sense!"

"What do you mean?" asked Sam as his interest piqued.

"I'll tell _you _what I told them other idjits…" she stopped and blushed "Sorry, not …I didn't mean…"

"Not to worry, we understand better than most that our brothers and sisters in the department can be…"

"Stupid?" she asked.

Dean laughed "You said it, ma'am." he paused "Now…"

She sighed "Jim doesn't…._didn't _smoke and nether did Lisa. Never did." she frowned "And what? Jim just takes it up one night and he burns…" she put a hand to her buxom chest "It's just not _true! _But what would _I _know? I've only been friends with them for twenty-odd years!"

Sam smiled softly at the woman "Mrs Grayson, we _will _take you seriously and we'll look into this, we promise." he smiled again "If you say they didn't smoke. We believe you." he paused "Apart from the…scavengers, have you noticed anyone else hanging around that maybe shouldn't be? Someone out of place?" he asked.

The woman frowned "Well now that you mention it, about a week ago…I saw a gangly lookin' young'un just standing on the grass and starin' at the house. Gave me the creeps, he did. I came out to chase him off, but by the time I got over here, he was gone." she lowered her head and shook it slowly "It was like he disappeared into thin air." she crossed herself.

"Description?" asked Dean.

"Ummm….dark hair..'bout shoulder length…thin, like I said. Mebe 5'9 or 5'10. Didn't see his face but he was a white fella like you boys. Really quite pale…like he didn't see the sun much, ya know?"

Dean nodded "More than you realise" he muttered. He looked into her confused brown eyes and smiled again "Thanks for your time, Mrs Grayson. We'll be in touch." He shook her hand "Come on, Clarkson." he grinned at Sam as he made his way back to the Impala.

"Thanks." said Sam as he put the pen and pad in his jacket. "This man…" he started "slumped shoulders…clothes looked too big for him?"

The woman's frown deepened "Why, yes. How did you know?"

Sam smiled "Thanks again." he shook her hand and resisted the urge to give Dean the finger as the Impala's horn sounded its owner's impatience.

"Come on, Sergeant! Time's a wastin'!"

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Dean threw his bag on the bed of the motel and slumped in one of the chairs near the window, running a tired hand over tired eyes. They'd visited all of the 'crime-scenes' except the SHC site; he'd begged off that last one. Dusk had been bearing down on them and he was just too damn tired and too damn hungry. He'd promised Sam that first thing in the morning, they'd head over there. _'Let the woman grieve' _he'd told Sam. His brother had seen through the lie but hadn't argued…for once.

Sam took the seat opposite his brother and passed him a beer "Well?"

"Alright, so we're either dealing with _two _demons or one with multiple personalities." he grinned at Sam "The 'Sybil' of the demon world."

Sam chuckled softly as he grabbed the file. He began to sort the clippings into two piles; one pile contained deaths that were methodical, flawless and left _no _witnesses. The other pile contained deaths that were disorganised, imprecise, slipshod at best and _always _left unanswered questions in its wake "So we've got _one _that knows _exactly _what they're doing and another who…_doesn't."_

Dean was staring out the window; watching the slow rise of the moon over the fishing boats that bobbed and swayed in the river "Doesn't? Sammy…" he laughed as he remembered one of the _near _victims saying he was 'chased' by a mini-tornado round his house. It had sucked up everything _but _him. "Did you _see _that dog?" he laughed "Spinning round the house like goddamn 'Toto'."

Sam tried to stifle a laugh; the poor dog had pissed itself if you looked _sideways _at it "That's what I'm saying. That's gotta be the work of…the …" he laughed softly "Do you think…nah…" he shook his head with another laugh.

"What, Sammy?"

Sam laughed "Do you think we've got a …demon-in-training? Like…" he tried to think of something Dean would relate to "Like… Obi-Wan and Luke Skywalker?"

Dean's laughter joined his brother "More like 'The Skipper and Gilligan', dude." he shook his head "Maybe." his stomach growled "But lets eat first 'cause that wasn't thunder, Sammy." he grinned and looked at his watch "Ten o'clock, no wonder I'm starved"

Sam grabbed the laptop "Bring me back something good." he said to his brother "I'll start looking into it."

Dean stood and stretched "I think 'Gilligan's' spelled with _two _'L's."

Sam threw his notepad at his brother "Seafood. Go."

Dean laughed as he stepped into the night; his laughter dying at the rush of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances that sped past the motel. Their flashing lights and deafening sirens screaming into the night. He turned as Sam came up next to him.

"Wonder who struck this time." Sam whispered.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Furfur followed as quickly as he could behind Haborym; the demons purposeful stride in stark contrast to the hurried, stumbling steps he took as he tried to keep up. He kept his eyes to the ground; there were no lights in this part of the delta and the last thing he needed was to fall on his face and look into his mentor's disappointed eyes. But he _should _have looked up; because running into the _back _of your mentor and falling on your ass wasn't a good thing either.

He sighed inwardly as Haborym yanked him to his feet. He turned in circles, taking in his surroundings. They'd walked through the boondocks and were now at the far end of town. The shanties that were littered about the dense swampland were painted jarringly bright colours. He guessed it was to brighten up their otherwise dull lives; to help them forget about the poverty in which they lived. He shrugged to himself; whatever gets you through the night, he guessed.

He saw people milling around a large metal drum; the fire within licking at the low-hanging Willow branches above. The sweet strains of 'Robert Johnson's' rifts drifted over the delta, the scratches from the old vinyl record bringing an eerie echo to the blues legend's _'Cross Road Blues' _. The air was filled with the aroma of Cajun cooking and laughter filled the night as the people of this shanty-town forgot all about their misfortune and revelled in their freedom. He turned to the maniacal laugh at his shoulder.

"So _blissfully_ unaware of what awaits them." Haborym chuckled darkly.

Furfur could see the malevolent light that shone like a beacon from his mentor's eyes and he tried to emulate it; scowling darkly and pushing his bangs from his face in an effort to look the part. "Sooo…who…?" he started; rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as his eyes quickly scanned the hordes of people in the shanty town. Haborym would select his victim; like he'd selected all the others.

Haborym ignored Furfur and scanned the mortals that were lazing by the softly lapping river. His eyes pulsed as he pointed "You see that man on the sandbank with the white-striped shirt?"

Furfur nodded eagerly "And the plaid shorts and socks with sandals…uh huh, uh huh." he said; unable to hide his excitement.

Haborym tried not to roll his eyes; he needed to school the demon properly or it would be _him _that looked the fool. _"Calm_ yourself, boy. Now I want you to take a deep breath; concentrate…and shoot lightning at his ass."

Furfur hesitated; a deep sense of fear settling in the pit of his stomach. "Lightning? Are you sure? 'Cause last time…" he trailed off.

Haborym turned dark eyes to the boy "Last time you weren't completely in control of your power. You've been practicing like I told you? Harnessing the power before directing it?"

Furfur nodded "Yeah…I …killed a …squirrel the other day…" he stammered; pausing before adding a whispered "eventually."

Haborym clenched his hands "Squirrels are…small. _That _creature is a damn sight larger than a squirrel." he groaned inwardly; he couldn't _believe _he was having this conversation. He could _hear _the laughter of his friends in his mind; killing small rodents as practice. He'd be a laughing stock around the deep pits.

"Can't I just use a tornado? I have my wind under control."

"Hardly." muttered Haborym as he glared at the boy "You eat chili again and I'll put my foot up your windy ass!"

"Yes, Sir." he answered automatically "It's just…lightning is…difficult to direct…"

"Just _concentrate." _he intoned angrily. He took a deep, steadying breath and calmed himself "Harness the power…you are _one _with the elements." _Satan! _he thought _Now he was a new-age guru? _He pushed that disturbing thought aside and continued with the lesson "The skies _belong _to you. _Remember _that. Now take a deep breath….and _aim _for his ass."

"His ass?" Furfur questioned.

Haborym stared dully at Furfur "Not his _literal _ass, boy!" he angered as he slapped the lad upside his head "A head shot would work best but any part of the body will do." He gave Furfur a push; resisting the urge to rip off the boy's arms and beat him to death with them.

Furfur nodded at his mentor; knowing he'd just dodged another ass-kicking. He took a deep, steadying breath like instructed and raised a spindly hand. Thunder rumbled overhead; a gradual growl that built slowly; and as the thunderous clap resonated overheard, the people of the shanty-town looked up in confusion at the sudden change in weather. Furfur drew his hand down, fear and excitement coursing through his body as he directed the lightning strike.

"_Shit!"_ he exclaimed. He'd missed the man by at least ten feet but he _had _managed to hit the metal drum that held the fire. The explosion that ripped through the air drowning out the screams as shrapnel flew in all directions; metal shards ripping into those closest to it.

"AGAIN!" ordered Haborym; smiling as he saw a man rise slowly from the sands and stare at the stump that had once held his arm; the blood jettisoning in a large arc before he fell forward, impaling himself on the skewed remains of the drum. The boy may have missed that time but he'd caused at least two fatalities.

Furfur raised his hand again; his brow furrowed in concentration as he directed the next bolt towards the screaming masses. He swore again as this fork _also_ missed his target; taking out a poorly constructed outhouse instead. But even _he_ had to smile this time as lethal wooden missiles flew through the air. He laughed out loud as he saw a woman fall lifelessly to the beach; her head rolling slowly towards the lapping waters. He giggled as her fingers dug into the sand, trying to pull her headless body forward before finally slumping in a bloodied heap as her body realised it really _was _dead.

He ignored the foul stench that now filled the air as Haborym began to yell orders at him. His main target was still trying to make his way to some kind of safety. Running in circles and ducking, his arms crossed over his head as he dodged shrapnel and lightning; his screams joining those of the other people as a holocaust raged around them. He raised his hand again; missing his target but hitting another man that appeared to run directly _into _the path of the lightning. The man's scream cut short as the convulsions swept through him; his clothes now aflame as he pitched forward, landing on the huddling form of a woman. Her screams, as she too, was now alight; like music to his ears.

Furfur laughed harder as he watched the woman push the burning carcass from her; slapping at her head to put out the flames as she ran towards the river in the vain attempt to put herself out. Sand kicked up in her wake as she fought against her death. He smiled; she wasn't dodging _that _bullet!

The screams of fear and pain were now a cacophony; the strains of 'Robert Johnson'' blues an ironic accompaniment that filtered over the delta….and Furfur began to giggle uncontrollably as the musician's words filled the air…

'_You can run, you can run. Tell my friend Willie Brown. You can run, you can run…'_

"Oh you can _run!" _laughed Furfur "But can you _hide?"_

"STOP LAUGHING AND _KILL _THAT SONOFABITCH!" Haborym roared. He'd marked that one for death and until it was done; he _wouldn't_ leave. "KILL HIM!" he roared again; his lips mere inches from Furfur' ear. He began to bellow at the boy; shouting orders over and over; drumming into that pea-sized brain of his, what it was he was _supposed _to be doing. He looked up sharply as he heard the sound of accusatory yells and saw the finger-pointing that was directed at the two of them and his anger went into overdrive.

"FIRE AT WILL! FIRE AT WILL!" he yelled into Furfur's ear.

Fufur whimpered; the scathing verbal attack in his ear was putting him off. He'd killed_ so_ many people out there! And he couldn't even _begin _to count the number of injured. What did Haborym want from him? He paused mid-thought…and who the _heaven _was 'Wil'? He raised his hand again as Haborym pushed him; the lightning striking the old Willow tree with a loud crack; showering the poorly constructed homes with sparks and setting the shanty town alight.

"FIRE AT WILL! FIRE AT WILL!" came the order again "SATANDAMMIT! FIRE AT WILL!"

Furfur automatically nodded his assent as he refocussed. Wil must be the target. But how did Haborym know his name? Wow. His mentor was _good. _He nodded to himself again. Okay. Time to hit Wil. He scanned the screaming masses looking for 'Wil' as he raised his hands. Haborym continued his verbal assault; the words lashing into him; striking deep and he began to panic. What if he couldn't _find _'Wil'? But when he heard the whispers begin; the slow seductive murmurs that began to snake through him, his panic took a strangle-hold.

He ignored the warmth that spilled down his legs at the return of the whisper; ignored the raging promise of his mentor as he told him _exactly _what he was going to do to his so-called protégé if he screwed this up. But it was an altogether _different _fear that gripped him; fear that ran alongside the familiar undertones that told him to open his mind and let the power _loose. _He looked up at his mentor with undisclosed fear; trying to explain. But all he could do was whimper as Haborym struck at him again.

Haborym ignored the whimper of the lad and the smell of piss as the demon went into some kind of mental melt-down. He slapped him upside the head again; but he had to give the kid credit; even in his state of panic, he raised his hands and commanded the heavens to do his bidding. Lightning streaked from the now turbulent skies and flew in all directions; a virulent virus of electricity that ignited the delta and screamed its power for all to hear. Haborym grinned to himself; fear was _always _a powerful motivator.

The night burst into day as the ozone crackled with a multitude of electric forks that speared towards the earth. Screams, yells and howls pierced the scorched night air, spearing into Furfur; but it was the deep caressing whisper that stroked at his mind that finally made him crack. It was all too much for him as that stalking innuendo filled his every thought; commanded his attention. He raised his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as he sank to his knees; rocking back and forth as he tried to shut out the manic laughter that echoed though him.

He didn't know how long he sat like that; his jeans damp from his own piss; his pitiful whimpers now the only thing that echoed in his ears. The stench of burning flesh…he stopped…_burning flesh? _He grinned; he'd _hit _someone else! Praise the devil! He'd _hit _someone else! Hopefully it was that 'Wil' guy. Oh, Haborym _would _be pleased!

He opened his eyes one at a time and squinted against the huge flames that were engulfing the shanty town. He could see the remaining survivors running from groaning and screaming body to groaning and screaming body as they tried to offer what pitiful help they could and a delicious smile spread across his lips. His black eyes darted over the bodies that littered the shore, looking for 'Wil'…for _another _burning body. He could see the man he'd hit earlier and the woman who'd received the flow-on effect from the strike. But no 'Wil'. He was _sure _he'd smelled the sweet, tantalising scent of roasting meat. He sniffed; yep, burning flesh…rather close too.

He turned his head slowly…his stomach sinking, his head now shaking vigorously as he looked at the charcoaled remains of Haborym. The demon still wore his last yell on his blackened face; faint wisps of smoke drifting from his barbequed body as a single, lonely flame flickered on his still pointed finger. He leaned over quickly and blew it out; stopping himself from making a wish.

Ohhhh, he was in _deep _shit. He began to shake..._NO! _He had to _fix _this! He let out a strangled laugh. Fix it? He'd just _killed _his mentor! _Another _mentor in a long _line_ of mentors! And this wasn't just _any _mentor either, but one of the Grand Dukes of Hell! Oh, he was in _more _than deep shit. There'd be_ no_ talking his way out of this one. He stood and began to pace nervously; wringing his hands as he went over his options. Options…options…options… _Shit! _He didn't _have_ any! He'd be sent to the pits for sure when they found out….he paused, stopping mid-step; a manic light now filling his shadowy eyes. _If _they found out. Yes…_if. _

He leaned down and grabbed Haborym by his ankles; ignoring the greasy feel of the demons skin as it sloughed under his hands. He began to slowly pull his mentor back to the abandoned farmhouse; ironically, his mind was now ticking over rather quickly. He had a plan…a plan that _had _to work. A plan that _would _work, he was sure of it. He just had to find the right book.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Dean and Sam pushed under the yellow 'crime-scene' tape; flashing their badges to the jittery cops that were offering little in the way of protecting the crime scene. But it was more a battle zone than crime scene. Bodies lay scattered over the small beach head; the groans, whimpers and the begging of the injured filled the air; the air that was cloyed with the smell of burning flesh.

The only light was from the slowly dwindling fire of the shanty town and the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. It gave the scene an eerie countenance; staccato movements of those that were rushing around tending to the wounded like those of an old movie reel…only the filter for this scene was red.

"Jesus…" muttered Sam; as he and Dean scanned the …_holocaust…_there was no other word for it.

Dean pointed to a cop that was crouched next to the decapitated body of what had once been a woman and made their careful way towards him. Dean crouched and snapped his badge open "Agent Bonham." He looked into the red-lit face of the cop "What the hell happened here?"

The man raised dull eyes to Dean's "Agent?"

Dean nodded "Been a lot of deaths here this last month or so. Just routine. Now…"

The cop nodded "We're not exactly sure. The survivors are…" he shook his head "We can't get much from them but from what we _can_ gather…it was a freak lightning storm that came outta nowhere. Only one direct hit from a strike that we can tell. The other deaths were all…flow on effects."

Sam crouched "How many dead?"

The cop sighed "At this stage? Six. That'll rise, no doubt." he stared into their eyes "They were burned _alive."_

"Not this one." motioned Dean.

"No shit." said the cop "Looks like a piece of wood from the outhouse sliced right through her neck."

"Where's her head?" asked Dean.

The cop turned towards the river "Boys are fishing it out of the river now."

"How long ago did it start?" asked Sam.

"Mebe an hour…not much more."

"Anyone we can talk to?" asked Dean.

The cop gave a hollow laugh "You can try but you ain't gonna get much from them. Your best bet'll be tomorrow."

Dean and Sam stood "Thanks for your time." said Sam as they moved off.

"This was 'Gilligan'." said Dean as he looked around "He's hit the town, the tree, an outhouse…" he watched as the coroner's began to lift a one-armed man from the remains of a metal drum "Ouch." he muttered.

"I'm guessing he was one of the lucky ones." muttered Sam "This is _carnage." _he watched as a screaming man was carried past them; his eyes filled with fear as his mind relived the terror of the night "We gotta shut this thing _down,_ Dean."

"Ya think?" said Dean as watched the paramedics give CPR to a man before finally covering him with a sheet "Make that seven dead."

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Furfur stood in the middle of the abandoned farmhouse; his shoulders hunched. The _'Munich Manual of Demonic Magic' _was held in his left hand as he studied the fifteenth century Grimoire carefully; his right hand scratching absentmindedly at his crotch.

His eyes flicked to the intricately drawn diagram he'd sketched on the floor; triple-checking every part of it to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. The circle was large enough to hold Haborym's corpse and he'd trickled wormwood powder on the Thaumaturgic Triangle drawn within the circle to ensure the hoodoo with which he was voodoo'ing was as powerful as it could be. He rechecked all the other symbols he'd drawn; mentally ticking them off…'Necromonicon Gate', _check; '_Athame', _check; '_Manzazuu Sigil', _check; '_Adar', _check._

Well all seemed in order; it was time to get this show on the road. He stifled a shiver that was part excitement, part fear; pushing down the insistent whisper that tried to rise within him. There would be _no _talking him out of this. He was past the point of no return and this was the _only _way he could save himself. He understood that.

He placed the Grimoire on a side-table and went to retrieve Haborym's body. He struggled against the dead weight of the demon; his wiry fingers slipping into the greasy, burned carcass. He tried not to gag as he was hit by the smell of putrefied flesh. He sighed; he really should have found this book earlier; but after scouring the library and museum with no luck; he'd _finally_ managed to track it down on e-bay of all places. He'd also managed to get it for a ridiculously good price as the antique-books dealer was completely unaware of what he had. The Grimoire was priceless …and he'd picked it up for $49.95 plus tax. Shipping had been a bitch though and he'd had to pay double the price for it to be delivered the next day. He really should have got some ice too, the scorching sun had wreaked havoc on Haborym.

He carefully placed the stinking, bloated corpse in the middle of the diagram; screwing his face up in disgust as he pushed the demons sloughing skin back onto its corpse. He ignored the stench of decay that seemed to follow him as he went to the bathroom; scrubbing at his hands til they were red raw. He changed quickly; throwing his slime covered clothes outside before returning to Haborym and the diagram. He wanted to look his best for this.

He lit the candles and incense that surrounded the diagram and picked up the Grimoire; flicking to the page he'd ear-marked. He took his dagger and made a slice to his forearm; tears springing to his eyes as blood began to trickle down his arm; snaking over his wrist and down his fingers. He began to walk around the circle; the Grimoire balanced precariously in his left hand as he held his right hand over the drawing; his blood dripping from his fingertips and falling onto the diagram. He concentrated as he read the incantation; he needed to summon the 'Manzazuu', the Babylonian Necromancers that were needed to effect his plan…

"_Ego dico in vos, Manzazuu, addo o nex, ut erigo Haborym sursum in vestry. Tribuo e vita, sic suus vox impero volo. Suus somes vobis. Erigo e sursum! Erigo e sursum! Pro suus vox, ego tribuo vos venalis! Meus animus quod canis es vestry! Erigo e sursum! Erigo e sursum! ERIGO E SURSUM!"_

Furfur came to a stop and looked at Haborym's body; nothing. It was still lying in the middle of the diagram, a soot-covered, putrid mess. He frowned and looked back at the Grimoire; reading over the incantation again. He was _pretty_ sure he'd got it right. Latin _really _wasn't his forte but he'd practiced and practiced the incantation to make sure he didn't make any mistakes. He looked back at the body…still nothing. _SHIT! _He must have done something wrong.

He went over the incantation again; re-checked that he had all the right symbols he needed within the diagram…yep. His brow furrowed in thought; well he _was _dealing with necromancers…maybe he had to _yell _the incantation so they could hear him. Yeah, _that _was probably it. Better do it again then.

He winced as he cut his arm _again_ and started the ceremony …_again_. Bleeding over the diagram _again _as he began his incantation…_again_; only this time _really _loud.

'_EGO DICO IN VOS, MANZAZUU, ADOO O NEX, UT ERIGO HABORYM SURSUM IN VESTRY! TRIBUO E VITA SIC SUUS VOX IMPERO VOLA! SUUS SOMES VOBIS, ERIGO E SURSUM! ERIGO E SURSUM! PRO SUUX VOX, EGO TRIBUO VOS VENALIS! MEUS ANIMUS QUOD CANIS ES VESTRY! ERIGO E SURSUM! ERIGO E SURSUM! __**ERIGO E SURSUM!**_

He stopped and looked again; _nothing. _He gave voice to a low yell of frustration "ASSHOLE!" He lashed out, kicking at Haborym "GIVE ME YOUR POWERS ALREADY!"

He stopped suddenly; a deep chill settling in his bones as he felt his blood run cold; the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He willed his head not to turn around but it didn't listen (it rarely did) and he looked into the darkest, blackest eyes he'd ever seen. He couldn't help himself; he let out a high-pitched squeal, a hand going to his heart as he took a fearful step back. The malevolent chuckle that echoed round the room telling him _exactly _who was in charge.

He stared in unmitigated fear at the woman before him; she was tall; her sheer, blood-red robe hugging her curvaceous figure in _all _the right places. Her raven hair coiled like snakes around her alabaster shoulders; her black eyes like the deepest pits of Hell…pits you could _lose _yourself in. A malignant smile fell across ruby lips as her eyes travelled slowly over him.

"Helpya with somethin'?" she drawled.

Furfur was literally stopped mid back-pedal by the woman's nasal voice "Aaah…aaahh…"

She piqued a pencil-thin eyebrow at him "Come _on, _I haven't got all night, sweet-cheeks. Things to do, dead people to resurrect and all that."

He took a teeny-tiny step towards her "Are you _really _a Manzazuu? 'Cause…"

"Oh, the voice?" she asked and he nodded "Yeah, been listening to too much Shania Twain." she cleared her throat "How's this?" The guttural demonic intonations her voice now held, scouring into him "Better?" she asked; a damnable laugh rising from the depths of her.

He wiped at his bloodied nose "Much…I think." he paused "I…ahhh…" he pointed to Haborym's corpse "I'd like his powers." he paused again "Please." he said; giving her a weak smile.

"And what would I get in return?" she asked; her voice bringing more blood to his nose.

"Him." he pointed to Haborym "He's a little more…ah, _ripe_ than he …once…was…"

She cast her eyes over the body "And a bit over-done." she wrinkled her nose "I'm more of a medium rare kinda gal."

Furfur nodded "Uh huh, me too…" he paused in thought "Guy, I mean. I'm a guy." he looked at her "Really." he said when he saw her scepticism. He sighed "Look, he's _really _good at following orders and he likes to hit people…_a lot…_and…and…he's a risk taker _that's _for sure. He's a master at killing people and stays until the job's done. You won't be disappointed. I promise." he paused and frowned "Although I _would _keep him away from rabbits. Something's not quite right there." he muttered.

The Manzazuu stared incredulously at the demon in front of her then shook her head "Still not seeing the upside of the deal for me." She looked over the demon again; she could tell he was in _way _over his over-sized head and that could only work in her favour; but there was a …shadow that surrounded him, a shadow that seemed to flit in and out of her periphery. She smiled; she _liked _shadows. They were powerful and she _lusted _for power.

"Tell you what. I'm in a generous kind of mood, so I'll give you…" her eyes flicked to the corpse.

"Haborym." Furfur supplied.

She nodded "Haborym's powers and I'll let you know later what I'll take in return." she smiled lasciviously "Deal?"

Furfur hesitated; it didn't sound like a good deal at all. But he was backed into a corner, and really, what could be worse than what would happen to him if HE found out what had taken place up here. So he ignored _every _instinct within him that screamed in that high-pitched voice of his, to _not _take the deal. He ignored the ever-present whisper that was now a roar and he gave the Manzazuu another weak smile "Deal." he paused; another frown creasing his high forehead "You're not going to kiss me now are you?"

She shuddered (a little too violently for Furfur's liking) "Aaah, no. Handshake'll be fine." she put out her hand.

Fufur sighed in relief and smiled at the woman; putting his hand in hers "Deal."

His eyes widened in pain and fear as her fingers elongated and pierced his hand; sliding further and further into his flesh as she pulled him towards her.

Her eyes pulsed; the black depths seeming deeper; and he looked into the whirlpool held within those ebony pits and began to shake violently. He felt himself pulled into the eddy; sucked down into the vicious whirling mass of darkness and shadows. He started to choke; to _drown _in the murky waters of those orbs. He felt the _blackness _slide down his throat; spreading like a poison through his body; a malignant cancer that left _nothing _untouched as it sought out every part of him; filling him …_devouring _him.

His gurgled scream and her loathsome laugh, the last thing his bleeding ears heard.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Dean woke to the sound of tapping on the laptop and opened his eyes slowly; Sam was hunched over the computer; his fingers flying across the keys as his eyes flew across the screen. Dean looked at his watch and groaned.

"It's 8.30 in the morning, dude."

"Coffee's there." said Sam, pointing to the cup next to Dean's bed without raising his eyes from the screen.

Dean reached for it and sipped; smiling as the hot liquid slid down his throat "Whatchya got?"

"Two more died overnight from their injuries." said Sam "And …a dog was hit by lightning this morning."

"Dog?"

Sam nodded "A boy was playing with his dog on the beach. The dog was hit by stray fork of lightning from a clear sky. The boy's fine."

"What kind of dog?"

"What does it matter?" said Sam as he continued to read.

"Well if it's one of those dogs that gets carried around in a bag and pisses on everything; it doesn't count." said Dean with a grin.

"You're an idiot." laughed Sam.

"_Well?"_

Sam rolled his eyes and hit a key "An Alsatian. Happy?"

Dean frowned "Not really. I like Alsatians…what was his name?"

Sam sighed "Andy Farrow."

"Not the boy. The dog." said Dean.

"Dean!"

"I'm just curious…" he looked at Sam "Was it Rin-Tin-Tin?"

"No." he looked at the screen "I can't believe we're having this conversation…" he muttered "It was 'Bullet'."

Dean grinned "Looked like he didn't dodge one, huh?"

"Ignoring you now." said Sam as he flicked to the next screen; giving Dean's laugh the finger "Go shower. We're shutting this thing down today."

Dean grinned and saluted his brother; draining his coffee as he got out of bed "Yes, sir."

Sam was waiting at the door when Dean came out of the bathroom "Come on."

"Dude, as much as the chicks love me in a towel." he grinned "It's gonna be a little difficult to explain at the hospital." he laughed as he changed into jeans and a t-shirt. "Still, maybe the nurses can give me a sponge-bath…maybe you too."

Sam shook his head "I'm going to the SHC site to speak with the widow. You do the hospital."

Dean slipped his boots on and shook his head "No way, Sammy. No splitting up. Hospital then Mrs Crispy-critter."

"No, Dean." said Sam "These strikes are escalating and the sooner we figure out what it is _exactly _that's going on, the sooner we can end it. You go to the hospital and I'll do the widow."

Dean piqued and eyebrow as he put a pistol at the small of his back "Do?"

Sam rolled his eyes "Yes, Dean, I'm gonna bang a woman who lost her husband four days ago." he walked out of the room and waited for his brother.

"I don't like this Sammy." said Dean as he ambled to the Impala.

"Too bad." Sam looked at his watch "I'll meet you back here in two hours."

Dean put his hand to the Impala's door "Sammy…"

"Dean, I'm a big boy and I'm packing. So get your ass over to the hospital and see what you can find out. I'll speak with the widow and meet you back here in two hours. Whatever's happening here seems to happen mostly at night." he stared into his brother eyes "No more deaths."

Dean sighed inwardly; he _knew _Sam was right. But …there was something in this town that didn't sit right with him. It wasn't so much the town itself but more something that seemed to be _cloaking _the town…_infecting _it. The sooner they shut it down the better. "Alright, Sammy. But rules. You _don't _go off alone following any kind of lead you _think_ you get. You _call _me if you find out _anything. _You understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Same goes." said Sam as he walked towards the town.

"Get your ass in the car, I'll drop you off!" called Dean.

Sam shook his head "Only ten blocks from here. I'll walk. Give me a chance to check this place out a little more."

"Be careful, Sammy!" called Dean as he slipped behind the wheel "You get yourself hurt, I'll kick your ass!"

Sam waved distractedly as he walked in the opposite direction to his brother. His mind going back to the man he'd seen walking into the power pole; the same man he was _sure _Hilary Grayson had seen staring at the Winston's house. The man _he _believed was probably the _key _to all of this.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Dean strode purposefully through the pale-green hospital corridors; smiling seductively at the pretty nurses and trying not to grimace at the smell of ammonia that assaulted his nostrils. The hushed undertones of all those within the ward, spoke volumes. Places _this _quiet meant death walked the halls here; death that he was all too familiar with. His senses were on high-alert; he _hated _hospitals. His last stay in one…he shook his head; nope, not going down that road. He silently cursed himself for letting Sam have the easier of the two jobs.

He scanned the doors as he passed, finally finding the room he was looking for. He pushed the door open; the small squeak of it turning the patient's hazy eyes towards him. He smiled and nodded to the man as he went to the end of the bed and lifted the chart; going over his list of injuries. His eyes scanned the chart, not really taking in the words. He'd seen the enough of the damage done to the man when he'd entered; the burned flesh; the blisters that littered his arms, legs and face; the pustules that were now forming in some places. The _shiny _stretched appearance of the skin that _appeared_ untouched by fire but wasn't; the scarred head that was bleeding in places; the stumps where his fingers had been and the smell…_god, _the smell.

Dean returned the chart and smiled as best he could at the man as he went to his side "I'm Detective Young, Mr Douglas." said Dean; his eyes not straying from the man's "I'm just doing a follow up. I'll make it quick." he said and the man nodded slowly "Electrical storm?" the man nodded slowly before frowning slightly. The skin on his forehead cracking at the movement "Easy, now." said Dean, trying not to wince. _Jesus,_ he felt like an asshole. But he needed information and the last two patients he'd gone to see were too out of it to give him anything.

The man opened raw, burned lips and whispered hoarsely. Dean leaned closer "Sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"Two…men…"

Dean raised his head and looked into Mr Douglas' eyes "There were two men there that shouldn't have been?" the man nodded. "Was one of them real skinny…about 5'10?" he asked and leaned down again for the answer.

"Eyes…evil…laugh. _They _…did this…" the man rasped "I _saw _…them….do …this…" he said as his eyes skittered about fearfully "Come…for…us. Finish…what…they started…" his voice scratched out as fear filled his eyes.

"Just take it easy." said Dean, trying to calm the man.

Jud Douglas shook his head; his pillow now stained red "Try…to…get _me. _I _know!" _he rasped "Chase me…with…lightning. I _know!" _he insisted.

"Mr Douglas, you need to calm down. You just…" started Dean. He stopped as the man's burned hand darted out quickly and grabbed his with surprising strength; the stumps of the man's fingers pressing against Dean's skin as they split open. Dean stared into the terror-filled eyes of Jud Douglas; this wasn't your standard run-of-the-mill terror. This was fear at its most primal form.

"Kill…."

Dean controlled the anger that boiled inside him and gave the man the best smile he could under the circumstances; making a vow he fully intended to keep "We'll kill them, Mr Douglas. I _promise _you."

The man shook his head slowly; his eyes boring into Dean's "Kill _me." _he pleaded.

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Sam slowed his pace as snippets of conversation filtered out of stores; hushed whispers floated from huddled groups of locals as others moved hurriedly; not wanting to be out in the open. Not wanting to be _exposed_.

The people of 'Argos' were scared. And they _should _be, he thought to himself. Whatever was happening here wasn't just escalating, it was _skyrocketing. _And if he and Dean didn't shut this thing down, and shut it down _fast, _then 'Argos' was going to be a ghost-town in _all _senses of the word.

He tried smiling at the few people whose eye he caught, but his smile was met with fear and suspicion. Strangers were an unknown quantity and someone smiling in the midst of such death and destruction was someone of whom they should be wary. So Sam did what everyone else did; he kept his head down and went quickly about his business. The answers weren't here, but he had a feeling he would get them at his next stop.

He found the street more easily than he expected; but it had been _far _more difficult to find the house. It was the last home on a dead-end road; set way back in the deep swampland. The path was heavily overgrown and he'd had to push his way through creeping vines and low-hanging Willow branches. He was beginning to think he'd veered off the almost non-existent path when he began to hear the too-loud wailing of 'Whitney Houston' and he groaned inwardly.

'_III-eee-III-eee-III….will always love youuuuu-ooo-oooo-ooo…'_

Oh, he _had_ to put an end to this. For _everyone's _sake. Even the animals had fled the area. There were no birds singing, no chattering of opossums and the crickets couldn't even _begin _to compete with the howling.

He ducked under a low branch and the dilapidated house came into view. It was a picture of death if ever he saw one. The piss-yellow peeling paint was like sloughing skin; the blooms that had once filled the flower-boxes lay brown and wilted underneath darkened windows. The sagging porch with broken railing, like decayed teeth in a sinking jaw; a jaw that held abscesses of cadaverous pot-plants along its depressed lips.

'_And III-eee-III-eee-III….will always love youuuuu-ooo-oooo-ooo…'_

And then there was that.

He silently cursed himself for giving Dean the easier of the jobs as he made his way up the creaking steps. He took a deep breath; put his best compassionate face on and winced…

'_III-eee-III-eee-III….will always love youuuuu-ooo-oooo-ooo…'_

He knocked loudly, once and then again before his hell was stopped and 'Whitney' was suddenly terminated. He heard the shuffling of feet as they made their way towards the door and he removed his 'badge' from his pocket; smiling as the door opened.

His grin faltered just slightly as the largest woman he'd _ever _seen blocked the doorway. He composed himself and flashed his badge "Mrs Dechamps, I'm Detective Hemingway. May I come in?"

Her red-rimmed eyes scanned him slowly before she sighed and gave him a small nod. She pushed the screen-door open with a squeak and ushered him in. He hesitated slightly, before sliding his body past hers with an awkward smile.

He waited as she stepped past him, following her down a dimly lit hallway and into a depressing lounge-room. Overstuffed chairs that were threadbare in places were covered in crumbs; empty Tupperware containers and over-flowing ashtrays littered the old coffee table and cigarette smoke hung like a veil over the entire room.

Mrs Dechamps lowered her black-clad frame into an old easy-chair that complained loudly as it took the weight. She motioned for him to take a seat near her and he smiled automatically as he sat; ignoring the small crunch of discarded crisps under his butt. He waited until she took a cigarette from a full-pack and watched as her eyes stared a little fearfully at the match-flame; the trembling stick following the shaking cigarette tip. He wasn't surprised.

"Mrs Dechamps, I know this is a painful time for you…but I just need to go over a few things…"

"Why?" she rasped as smoke billowed from her lungs "My _Teddy _is dead! Burned alive right in front of me eyes!" She leaned over as hacking coughs wracked her body.

Sam waited until she righted herself and drew back heartily on her smoke again "I'm truly sorry for your loss, Mrs Dechamps. But my bosses just like to dot their 'i's and cross their 't's …"

She reached over and took a framed photograph from a side-table and shoved it at Sam "Here. That's my _Teddy. _Never hurt a soul his whole life. And then…then….then…" she sniffed loudly.

Sam looked at the photo; Ted Dechamps was the complete opposite of his wife. Tall and wiry with a shock of blindingly blonde hair over deep blue eyes. He was holding a 12-guage over his shoulder and had a coon-dog at his feet; a smart-ass grin on his face as he posed for the photo. But Sam could see the hopelessness of his life shining dully in those blue eyes. He looked up at Mrs Dechamps and smiled sadly "I'm really very sorry for your loss, Mrs Dechamps."

She nodded; sighing as she took the photo back. She pressed her lips to it before returning it to the side-table "Call me Louisa." she said as she turned back to him "Ask…I …" she sighed again "Just ask."

Sam nodded and removed his notepad "That night…" he started "You said in your statement that you noticed nothing unusual until you heard your husband …screaming..." she nodded "There wasn't anything about that night…just before the…fire that seemed out of place? Something that didn't …sit right with you?"

"Whatdya mean?"

"Aaah, unusual weather …animals acting oddly…" he gave a short smile at her confusion "It's just that sometimes animals are …aware of things before we are…and your dog…"

"'_Chompers'_ is dead." said Mrs Dechamps. She frowned slightly "But…I …" she shook her head "It was nothin'."

Sam sat forward on the couch "Mrs…aaah, Louisa…anything, even if you don't think it's important, would help me."

She sighed "I thought I heard Teddy yelling at someone. I didn't 'member 'til t'other day. I didn't think nothin' of it at the time, I mean we don't get no people round here much. But…just before…he…" she shook her head "I got me the _creeps." _she shivered involuntarily at the memory "And then I hears Teddy _screaming." _she stubbed out her cigarette forcefully then brushed at her tears "I never seen nothin' like it." she whispered "He was _burnin'. _Sitting in that damn chair of his he loved so much, screaming for all Hell to hear as the fire _ate _him." she peered into Sam's eyes "I _tried _to help him. But…but…the hose wouldn't reach …it got tangled…and…and…"

Sam reached over and patted her hand gently; saying the only thing he could think of "I'm _so_ sorry."

She nodded "It was the laughing that got me." she whispered.

"Laughing?"

She nodded again "The doctors said it was just me mind hearing things." she stared intensely at Sam "I _know _what I heard from those woods! But people think I'm already goin' crazy. Every time theys drop off another casserole, I _see _the pity in their eyes!"

"Louisa, if you say you heard laughter." he smiled softly at her "I believe you." he rose "Would you mind if I took a look around outside?"

She waved him off "Knock yerself out. I ain't _ever _goin' out there again."

Sam nodded and walked out of the room; hearing another match strike as he headed towards the back door. He stepped through a surprisingly clean kitchen and out the back door, closing it gently behind him. He immediately noticed the spot where Ted Dechamps spent his last terrifying moments; the scorched concrete a constant reminder that death had ruled here.

He crouched at the spot and stared at the burn pattern. The fire had been so intense the concrete was cracked and sunken in places and the flash marks were evenly placed. This had been a _controlled _burn. He studied it more closely and frowned; this wasn't a pattern, it was a _diagram. _He took the pad and pen from his jeans and sketched the outline and flash marks quickly. He pocketed them as he stood and stared into the woods surrounding the home before slowly making his way towards them.

It took a good twenty-minutes before he found what he was looking for. The grass didn't grow in this spot and the bark on the trees near the area had taken on a blackened appearance; but it was the smell of sulphur that still hung in the air that told him he'd found the right place. He noticed a discarded beer bottle nearby and things started to fall into place.

Ted Dechamps _had _heard someone in the woods, _that's _why Louisa had heard him yelling. He'd thrown his beer at the noise and he'd paid the ultimate price for it. He looked back towards the house; perfect line of sight to the kill spot. That asshole had _watched _Ted Dechamps; probably taunted him before setting the poor guy alight. It had all been a game. The sonofabitch that had done this had _laughed _as Louisa tried to save her husband; mocked her futile attempts at trying to douse Ted.

His anger flared as he stormed back to the house. He would _find _this demon and kill it. And _he _would laugh while he did it.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

It was third time Dean had tried to get Sam on the phone but the damn '_out of radio range'_ that was the constant reply; was starting to get on his nerves. He shoved the phone back into his jeans; subconsciously wiping his hand on them. He could still _feel_ the slickness of Jud Douglas' maimed hand on him; could see the begging for mercy in his eyes as he'd gently pried the man's hand from him; vowing to _kill _the assholes that had done this to him.

The wretched sobs of self-pity that had followed Dean from the man's hospital room still rang in his ears as he made his way to the shanty town; even the Impala's rumbling couldn't silence them. He sighed to himself; Sammy was right. They had to shut this down and _fast. _But this wasn't going to be a simple salt'n'burn. They were dealing with something that was bigger than a pissed off ghost here. The medallion attested to that. _Shit. _The medallion; he'd left it at the motel. Well he couldn't go back and get it now; he was almost at the shanty town.

He made the last of the left-hand turns and stared in disbelief at the scene that greeted him. Last night had been bad; but in the cold light of day, it was devastating. He hadn't completely understood the scale of it. But now…

He got slowly from the car; the creaking of the doors echoing loudly round the desolate landscape. He closed the door quietly before making his careful way towards the ruins. .

The shanty town was now nothing more than a burned mass of collapsed tin; the large Willow tree lay split in two, a blackened jagged stump rising from the middle. The stench of burnt flesh still hung heavily in the air and if anything, it was worse. The sand was scorched in places and he crouched, lifting some of the sand to his eyes. Glass. The sand was littered with bits of it. The heat had been so intense it had literally turned the sand to glass. He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans as he made his careful way around the debris that littered the small beach. He frowned as he looked at the strike patterns that peppered the sands. Something wasn't right with this.

He looked around and found an embankment; he moved quickly over to it and climbed up; inspecting the beach below him. He shook his head; just as he thought. Jud Douglas _hadn't _been hallucinating; the strike marks followed a pattern. He _had _been chased. But the 'shooter' had been a bad shot; Jud Douglas _hadn't_ been struck by lightning. He'd been trapped underneath the burning Willow tree as fire slowly ate away at him.

He looked towards the area Jud had told him he'd seen the two figures and sure enough there was a group of burned and blackened trees. He jumped down easily from the embankment and made his way towards woods; stepping over bits of wood and metal as he took his phone out and tried Sam again.

"Come _on, _Sammy." he muttered as he got the same 'out of radio range' message "If you're stuffing yourself with food I'm gonna _kick _your ass." he said to himself; ignoring the growl from his stomach at the mere mention of food. Neither he nor Sammy had had an appetite after last night.

He got to the spot and walked slowly around it; oh, something or someone had died here. There was no doubt. And he was pretty sure that _'something' _had demon written all over it. It wasn't just the stink of burned flesh but the overwhelming smell of sulphur that permeated it. He laughed softly; looked like someone had had a misfire.

"Seems like you barbequed your buddy, _Sparky._" he said softly "_Love_ the irony." he laughed to himself "and the smell of burning demon in the afternoon…"

He scanned the area again and noticed what could only be drag marks. _Blackened _drag marks. Bingo! He grinned; time to follow the black marked road and find the Wizard of Ass. He grinned to himself again; _that was pretty good_, he thought, gotta remember to tell Sam that one. Wizard of Ass. He chuckled. Wonder if he'd meet the 'tin-man' on his travels 'cause he was pretty sure the 'scarecrow' was toast.

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Furfur watched the man as he moved purposefully around the ruins of the shanty town. He'd listened to the voice that had whispered through his mind and had followed the _impostor _from the hospital. He'd almost screwed up when he'd taken a header down the front steps; the man turning to the sound of his squeal as he'd bounced down the stone steps. He'd managed to get his hands out but they'd only acted as a fulcrum; forcing him onto his forehead and creating _another _lump in the process.

He'd slapped at the hands that had tried to help him; insisting he was alright and watched as the man had turned away from him; shaking his head with a small grin as he got into his car. Furfur put his hands to his forehead. Great. Another lump; one on one side of his forehead and one on the other. Even in his mortal form he was asymmetrical.

He'd watched the man move lithely round the beach; his swagger and the ease at which he seemed to manoeuvre himself on and around things only increased his dislike of the man. The dislike that had started when he'd seen the nurses at the hospital smile seductively at the man before turning away from _him_ in distaste. This man was everything _he _wanted to be. Good looking, smooth, agile and sure of himself. And he drove an _awesome_ car.

But there was more to this man than met the eye. He'd picked up what the authorities hadn't. And that worried him. He'd almost gasped allowed when he'd heard the man say 'demon', but had clasped his hands over his mouth to stop its escape. _This _man knew about his kind, which could mean only one thing.

Hunter.

They were onto him.

He fought the panic that had started to swell inside him and watched, a small smile touching his thin lips as the man began to follow the drag marks back to the farmhouse. He began to formulate a plan as he followed the man from a distance. Yes…this would work out _perfectly._

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Sam pushed to motel door open "Dean? You here?" he asked; although the absence of the Impala out the front of the motel told him he wasn't going to get an answer.

He tried his brother's number again but got the same 'out of radio range' message he had the _last _five times he'd tried to reach him. He looked at his watch; two and half hours had passed since he left Dean. If he was still at the hospital, he'd have his phone switched off.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-bar and sat at the table, pulling the laptop towards him. He took the sketch of the diagram from his pocket and began his search. The design looked vaguely familiar but that didn't make his search any easier; in fact, it made it a damn sight harder. Although he _tried _to concentrate on the screen in front of him, his mind kept going through the 'mental catalogue' of glyphs and sigils that resided in the overstocked library of his psyche.

He shook his head and refocussed his attention. Fire. That's what he was dealing with. It was as good a place as any to start. He sighed and began to sift through the sites that _weren't _filled with fanciful crap and he slowly began to block out everything else as he searched for an answer to who was behind all of this.

His first hit was about an hour later; but it wasn't the diagram. It was the medallion. It wasn't an exact match but it was close enough to give him an understanding of what the amulet was. It was a protection; but not the kind normally worn by people and certainly _not_ worn by demons. What the _hell _was going _on _here? He studied the medallion and tried to make out the inscription; squinting as he read…

'_Servo vos vobis. Servo vos ex umbra'_

He read and re-read it, making sure he had it right. He frowned as he translated the Latin. Since when did demons use Latin in protections, let alone _need _them? But if the translation was right, it made a weird kind of sense…well part of it did.

'_Protect you from you. Protect you from the shadow'_

There was no doubt they were dealing with _two _demons here, not one. _'Protect you from you'. _He was sure he knew who that was. Gilligan. The awkward man who'd walked into the power pole. Alright, one down. One to go. He was sure that Ted Dechamps had been killed by the skillful demon and it was _him _they had to beat. Time to find out who this asshole was.

xx..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..SNSIE..xx

Dean stifled a groan as his senses started to slowly come back to him. His eyes fluttered open and he snapped his head up quickly, testing the binds at his wrists and ankles as he took in his surroundings. He was in a disused farmhouse that had seen _much _better days; two beds, a table and chairs… and the smell of something dead lingering in the air. He turned his head as he heard the door open and watched as the scrawny man from the hospital entered warily; two large lumps adorning his high brow.

The man grinned at him "You're awake."

"No, dipshit." said Dean "I'm sleeping with my eyes open."

The smile fell from Furfur's face and he glared at Dean "You watch what you say to me!" he threatened.

"Or what?" laughed Dean "You gonna fall on me again?"

"I _captured _you!" yelled Furfur; the man's derisive laughter ringing in his ears.

"Hate to shatter your dream there, Wile. E." smirked Dean "But you tripped over your oversized feet and _fell _onto me." he grinned again "Lucky for you there was a well-placed rock to knock me out." he glared at the man "But I _will _kick your ass in about…five minutes."

Furfur laughed as he took another chair and sat in front of Dean "And how are you gonna do _that _genius? You're tied up." he grinned triumphantly "I captured a demon hunter!" he clapped as he laughed.

Dean piqued an eyebrow; looked like the demon he'd been tracking had literally stumbled onto him "Saw your work at the shanty town." said Dean "Messy." he shook his head "And you _missed _your target, dickhead." he cocked his head and sniffed "_And _you burnt your buddy to a crisp too." he grinned "Bet your bosses are _real _pleased about that."

Furfur stood up quickly "YOU SHUT UP!"

"Make me." grinned Dean; this was like dealing with a four year old. He laughed when Furfur slapped him "Jesus, dude. You even _hit _like a girl." He laughed again; he'd barely felt the slap "You gotta put your shoulder into it."

"Yeah?" asked Furfur.

Dean stopped mid-laugh as he stared at the demon. Was he serious? "Aaah, yeah."

Furfur pulled his arm back and slapped Dean again "How was that?" he asked earnestly.

"You gotta be shitting me." muttered Dean with a shake of the head. How the hell was he going to explain to Sam that he'd been knocked out by this pitiful excuse for a demon? He'd _never _live it down. He turned his eyes to the demon "Alright, lets get something straight. You're not even _half _the demon you should be and pretty soon, I'm gonna get out of here and kick your ass straight back to Hell. So let's make it easy on you. Untie me and I'll do it as quickly as I can." Furfur glared at the man in front of him "Jesus, dude. You didn't think we were bonding did you?" he laughed when he saw that's _exactly _what the demon thought.

Fufur gave Dean his best 'glower' "Oh, no." he grinned "I've got something _better _planned for you."

"Yeah?" asked Dean "What would…" he was interrupted by his phone ringing.

"What's that?" asked Furfur; fear tingeing his voice.

"My _phone, _Einstein." said Dean "You mind? Front pocket…and _watch _where you put your hands." Dean stared in utter disbelief as the demon retrieved his phone and answered it.

"H-H-Hello?" he paused "No, he's here……who're _you?_...No, _I _asked first…..oh, yeah, you did. Still not gonna tell you 'til you tell me _your _name."

"Give me the phone." ordered Dean.

Furfur turned to Dean "I'm _talking." _he turned his back on Dean and continued his conversation "So who is Dean to you?...Don't want to tell me huh?" Furfur laughed "Well that's okay. He won't be around much longer anyway…..oh, Sam was it? Well, _Sam…_Dean's gonna help me come into my own and then ….no, you _can't…_I've already started the ceremony…so good _luck _finding us…okay, why not?" Furfur turned and put the phone to Dean's ear.

"Sammy."

"_Dean? What the __**hell **__is going on?"_

Dean laughed "Dude, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"_Listen, Dean. We were right. There __**are **__two demons here……"_

"You got it half right, Sammy. But you listen to _me. _Don't you come after me, dude. You let this…demon alone. You saw what he did to that shanty town don't mess with him."

"_How far from there are you?" _

"Dude, I _mean _it. This demon is…_evil" _said Dean, trying not roll his eyes at that bald faced lie, but he could see how the demon was getting off on it and he needed to let Sammy know where he was "He's seriously batting 500. I'm gonna buy the farm, no doubt about it; so the Impala's _yours _now. Don't you argue with me, Sam or I'll come back and kick your ass like I did in east Texas remember?"

"_Got it. Sit tight. I got an ace up my sleeve."_

"Take care of yourself, Sammy…" started Dean as Furfur ripped the phone away and closed it.

Furfur grinned "Time to get to work." He went behind Dean and began to drag him to the middle of the room.

Dean listened to the demon grunt and gasp as he dragged him in his chair "You know, you could just untie me. Make it easier on yourself."

Furfur laughed "I'm _not _stupid, _Dean."_

"I beg to differ." argued Dean "Not only did you roast your buddy but you've been making messes all _over _this crappy town. Probably did your boss a favour by offing him. Bet he was sick of cleaning up after you."

Furfur deposited Dean in the middle of the floor and came round; slapping Dean hard as he stood in front of him "I've been kicking _ass!" _he said angrily "I killed a little boy just this morning!"

Dean laughed "No, you didn't. You killed the kid's _dog, _not him. Didn't even make front page news." he grinned at the demon "It's just misfire after misfire for you ain't it?"

Furfur hit Dean again "Well this time I _ain't _gonna miss!" he glowered "See?" he pointed to the floor and Dean dropped his gaze and inspected the diagram. He looked up at the giggle "You're moving house."

Dean shook his head "You have _no _idea what you're doing do you?"

Furfur bristled "I do SO! I've done it before and it worked out just fine." he went to the table and picked up a book "See? It's all in here."

Dean stared at the book "_The Munich Manual of Demonic Magic'? _" he raised his eyes to Furfur's "Where'd you pick it up?" he laughed "E-bay?" he laughed harder when he saw the confirmation in the demon's eyes. "Oh, dude. It's gonna be a shame when I kill you 'cause you'd seriously be fun to have around." he laughed again "E-bay."

"IT'S THE ORIGINAL!" yelled Furfur.

"Uh huh." said Dean "A priceless Grimoire sold on e-bay."

"I've had _just _about enough of you!" Furfur began to flick through the pages of the book "Time to make you mine…or me…you…" he muttered "or something…"

Dean looked at the symbols on the floor; this was a powerful sigil but something wasn't right with it "What's that?" asked Dean and he motioned to his left.

"An _'Athame.'" _mocked Furfur "Even _you _should know that!"

"It looks like a weiner, dude. You sure you know what you're doing?" asked Dean "'Cause if you've got something else in mind…I gotta tell ya, I don't swing that way."

"Shut UP!" Furfur yelled as he went back to his reading "Okay." He took a dagger from the table and cut his arm and began to walk around the circle…"_Patefacio vestry animus! Audite meus lacuna! Tribuo mihi vir! Quod ego ero monachus!"_

Dean cracked up _"And you will be the monkey?_ Are you serious?"

Furfur stopped and frowned at Dean "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes _"'Quod ego ero monachus'." _said Dean "That means 'And I will be the monkey'."

"No it doesn't!" angered Furfur.

"Yeah." laughed Dean "It does."

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"Does NOT!"

"Yeah, dude. It does." laughed Dean "But, please, continue. This I _gotta _see."

Furfur stopped and stepped into the circle; he lowered the book and pointed "Here."

Dean read it and laughed "Dude, you finish that and you'll end up a furry critter who eats bananas and I'll be sitting pretty."

"YOU'RE LYING!" yelled Furfur.

Dean laughed again "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm, not." he looked at the demon; this was working out better than he thought. Sammy would be here soon but even if he wasn't; this demon didn't know his ass from breakfast "Turn to the front of the book." he instructed and Furfur flicked to it and Dean rolled his eyes "Dude. Since when do ancient Grimoire's have copyrights?" he laughed "Come _on."_

Furfur looked at the page; his eyes widening as he saw the copyright notice and publisher's name at the bottom of the front page "But…but…I _summoned _the Manzazuu…."

Dean stared incredulously at the demon, all laughter gone from the situation "Oh, dude. Tell me you didn't."

Furfur raised his eyes "I _did." _he said proudly "This hot, scary chick came and…yeah. It _worked. _See? Read this." he flicked to another page.

Dean read it and laughed softly "Maybe." he looked at the demon "Do you understand Latin at _all?_" Dean shook his head at the demon's silence "Didn't think so. What did you give her?"

"Nothing. She gave me more power and said she'd let me know later."

Dean shook his head again "Dude, not only did you promise her your soul, which you don't _have _mind you but you promised her your _dog. _See? Canis, means _dog, _dude."

Furfur read the passage again "No…" he shook his head.

"'Fraid so." said Dean with a smile.

Furfur stated to pace "No….NO!" he stopped "We'll see about this!" he began the incantation again, the one used to summon the Manzazuu.

"Don't do it, dude…" warned Dean "You're messing with shit you shouldn't."

Furfur ignored him "_Ego Dico In Vos, Manzazuu, Adoo O Nex, Ut Erigo Haborym Sursum In Vestry! Tribuo E Vita Sic Suus Vox Impero Vola! Suus Somes Vobis, Erigo E Sursum! Erigo E Sursum! Pro Suux Vox, Ego Tribuo Vos Venalis! Meus Animus Quod Canis Es Vestry! Erigo E Sursum! Erigo E Sursum! __**Erigo E Sursum!"**_

Dean hung his head; the idiot had done it again. Not only had he used the name of the other demon, he'd left in the bit about the dog. He started to laugh but stopped when he felt the temperature of the farmhouse drop dramatically and felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Someone was here and they were standing _right _behind him. "Dude…what have you done?" he muttered.

Furfur grinned at him "I did it! She's here!" he pointed behind Dean.

Dean turned his head and watched as the Manzazuu walked languidly from behind him; her black hair moving round her shoulders, her sheer, red robe whispering about her. The evil was coming off her in waves; and this was evil at its most malevolent. And this _idiot _had _no _idea what he was messing with. Dean eyes flicked from the Manzazuu as she was followed by the smoking remains of who he guessed was the demon's buddy.

The Manzazuu turned her eyes to Dean and smiled "Well who do we have here?" she asked; her voice was like razor blades and he winced as it cut into him.

"Faithful captive." Furfur answered, turning to the Manzazuu "His name's Dean…something. I'd like to …inhabit him."

"Ain't gonna happen." said Dean.

"Oh, it will." he grinned. He turned sharply as the door to the farmhouse was kicked in "GET OUT!" Furfur yelled as a dark haired man ran in. He raised a hand, smiling as a fireball shot from it.

"SAMMY!" yelled Dean; but Sam just grinned as the fireball swerved round him and took out the back wall.

"Oops. Missed." grinned Sam. He reached up and took the medallion out from underneath his t-shirt "Remember this?" he asked "I'm protected from you and …your shadow."

"My shadow?" he asked; shaking his head; his gaze going between Dean and Sam "WHO THE HEAVEN ARE YOU TWO?" demanded Furfur; as he felt the panic start to settle in again; the panic that rose with the hushed whispers.

"Well, I guess introductions _are _kinda appropriate now." Dean grinned "I'm Dean Winchester." he smiled and motioned with his head "My brother Sam. He's also a Winchester." he looked at his brother "Hey, Sammy."

Sam nodded "Dean." He looked at the three other people in the room…well the two demons and the walking corpse "Seems like we're all here." he said as he walked slowly towards his brother. He looked at the demon "It's all over." he said "I know what you've done." he looked at the fried demon "Haborym's surely pissed at you."

Furfur stared at Sam; a new fear flooding through him when he realised who it was standing in front of him "I…I …didn't mean it! I _swear! _I didn't know who you…" he started;

_"Silence!"_ hissed the Manzazuu.

Dean turned to the Manzazuu "Look, me and my brother will just walk out of here…you can have these two…"

"Dean!"

"Sammy, Manzazuu here. Don't mess around okay?" said Dean "Listen, we just wanted to shut this idiot down. I know you own him…and, surprisingly, his dog…"

The Manzazuu turned loathsome eyes to Dean "I _know _who you are Dean Winchester!" she hissed and Dean grunted as a cold more bitter than he'd ever felt rushed through him.

"DEAN!"

The Manzazuu turned her eyes to Sam "DO NOT MOVE!" she spat and Sam stopped dead in his tracks; a wash of biting cold sliding through him.

"KILL HIM!" yelled Furfur "KILL BOTH OF THEM!" He was unable to control the words that spewed from him as he listened to the commands of the whisperer.

Dean and Sam stared at Furfur; both of them frowning as they saw the demon's shadow begin to move behind him. Not mirroring the demon's movements at all. They saw its hulking shape; saw the distorted image that heaved behind the gangly demon. Dean glanced at his brother and saw Sam shake his head subtly.

Furfur saw Dean and Sam staring behind him and turned as if in slow motion. The blood drained from his face and he took a fearful step back; letting out a gasp as his shadow remained in place "No…" he whispered.

"Oh yes…" laughed the Manzazuu; her voice spearing into all within the cabin "I've come to collect, _Furfur." _

"Furfur?" asked Dean incredulously. He looked at the demon "Your name's Furfur?"

Furfur glared at Dean then raised his eyes to Sam; the nefarious whisper that had plagued him his whole life now urging him to finish what he started "I may not be able to hurt you, _sir. _But him…" he pointed to Dean and raised his hand as Sam yelled.

The Manzazuu put her hand on Furfur's shoulder; her fingers elongating and piercing his muscle "No!" she hissed; forcing Furfur to his knees.

Dean looked up into the face of the Manzazuu; so this was how it was going to end. Taken out by a Babylonian necromancer; he stared at her in defiance. "Do it."

She laughed and it was like thunder in the small room "I cannot, Dean Winchester. You are afforded protection." her eyes flicked to the amulet he wore around his neck "You will come to no harm from me." her eyes flicked to Sam "And we know about you too, Sam Winchester." she smiled caustically "You too are needed for …" she laughed again "Understanding will come."

She turned her attention to Furfur "And you, my _sweet." _she laughed "Time to pay your _debt."_ she lowered her face to the whimpering demons "I am an _ancient _power!" she hissed; smiling as she saw the blood run from the boys nose; saw the fear in his eyes. A fear she fed on "You promised me your soul." she laughed "Something you _don't_ have." she smiled a smile that was too wide for her face "But there _is _something you have that will do." She pointed to the shadow "Your brother."

Furfur turned fearful eyes to the shadow; eyes that now widened as the shadow ripped itself from the wall. He grimaced as he heard the whispers that had for so long been held within his mind, tear from his and he opened his mouth and howled; the scream shattering through the cabin and giving voice, giving form _…_giving _life _to the shadow.

Sam moved quickly; taking his dagger and cutting his brother free from the binds and dragging him from the chair. Both men were unable to tear their eyes from the manifestation occurring in front of them. The shadow had ripped itself from the wall; hunching before raising itself and throwing its shady arms wide in a weird welcoming gesture. But it _was _welcoming something; the scream that tore from Furfur. The howl that reverberated round the cabin whirled around them like a wind before slamming into the shadow. They saw it take a small step back before beginning a roar of its own. A roar that rose, building in crescendo as the shadow took form; solidified.

The howls from both Furfur and his shadow built and built until a scream, that had _all _but the Manzazuu, cover their ears and stagger under the weight of it.

Dean grabbed at his brother; holding him up as he felt Sam sag underneath the barrage of howls "SAMMY!" he yelled; his voice screaming into the now silent cabin. It was over as quickly as it had begun.

Dean turned his head and stared at the grotesque mass in front of him. It stood at least seven feet tall; one arm was longer than the other with misshapen talons bleeding from each deformed finger. Its muscular legs were covered in weeping pustules; but it was its head that held Dean's attention. Its dark, porous skin was stretched tight over bulging bone; lopsided, pointed ears flared from the side of its head and a mangled horn pierced its skull, spilling blood. Its eyes shone with depraved light as it stared at Furfur.

"Jesus…" said Dean. He looked at the Manzazuu "What the _hell _is that?"

She smiled nastily "_That _is the brother he killed in the womb." she smiled again "My new puppy." she turned her eyes to Furfur and dragged him to his feet. Her eyes flashed "And now I take payment for the _gift _I bestowed on you!" she hissed.

"No…please…no…" he begged. He turned his face to Dean and Sam "Help me!"

"Dude." said Dean "I told you not to mess with the Manzazuu." he glared at the demon "Die a slow and painful death you _sonofabitch!" _he looked at the Manzazuu "May I?"

The necromancer cocked her head before finally nodding and he tore Furfur from her grasp; the demon howling as the Manzazuu's talons were ripped from him. Dean raised his hand and slammed his fist into Furfur's face, breaking the demon's nose "_That's _how you hit someone, asshole!" he slammed his fist into his face again "And _that's _for Jud Douglas!"

Sam reached over and slammed his fist into the side of Furfur's head "And _that's _for Ted Dechamps!" he pulled the demons face to his "And I'll be the one _laughing _when she tears you a new one!" he pulled the demon's face closer "You hear me? I'LL BE LAUGHING MY ASS OFF!" he hit the demon again and again; Dean finally wrestling the whimpering boy from his brother and tossing him on the floor at the feet of the Manzazuu.

"He's all yours." said Dean.

The Manzanuu nodded and turned to Haborym "Bring him."

"NOOOOO!" screamed Furfur as Haborym's hands snaked out and grabbed Furfur by the scruff of the neck.

A scorching chuckle burned from the blackened demon "Now our lessons _really _begin, _boy!"_ Furfur shrieked as Haborym tossed him towards his brother "Say hello to your brother, Furfur." he laughed "We've named him _'Abel'. _" his blackened lips split into a gruesome smile "We're big on irony."

The Manzazuu turned her eyes to Sam "Beware the forces that surround you, Sam Winchester." she laughed malevolently "Or not…"

Sam frowned; ignoring the stare of his brother as the Manzauu raised her hand and shrieked. Dean and Sam fell to their knees; blood gushing from their noses as they clasped their hands over their ears. Pain ripped through them as the loathsome laugh of the Manzazuu echoed loudly round the room; cutting into them before it began to slowly wane….the pain waning with it.

Dean finally pushed himself from the floor. The Manzazuu and demons were gone; the only thing remaining was the puddle of piss left on the floor by Furfur. Dean lifted Sam into a sitting position; running his hands over his brother and checking for injuries "You alright, Sammy?"

"Fine, fine." he muttered as he wiped the blood from his face. He looked around the empty farmhouse "It's over."

Dean stood and helped Sam to his feet "We kicked demon ass again, Sammy. And we didn't raise a finger." he clapped his brother on the shoulder and herded him out the door "Let's get the hell out of here."

He followed Sam from the cabin back towards the shanty town; wondering the whole time what the Manzazuu had meant about the forces surrounding his brother. First Alex Armstrong and now the Manzazuu. What did they think was happening to his brother? And why had Furfur called Sam _'sir'? _He shook his head. No. Sam was fine. Just fine.

He pushed the memory of the look on his brother's face when he'd been beating Furfur…it _wasn't _excitement he'd seen on it. He was _sure. _

**The End.**

* * *

Copyright AJ. 2007. SNSIE.

Thanks to:

Sam - Editor

The SNSIE Team.


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